


a second or a lifetime, i’d always wait for you

by carolinka



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 15:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13504590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinka/pseuds/carolinka
Summary: Despite his clueless and gullible views on politics, Damianos is more than adequate enough to understand his duties to his kingdom as a sole legitimate heir to the throne, whether it is to give his life, or marry a gorgeous Veretian prince for the peace between the two kingdoms.





	a second or a lifetime, i’d always wait for you

Despite his clueless and gullible views on politics, Damianos is more than adequate enough to understand his duties to his kingdom as a sole legitimate heir to the throne, whether it is to give his life, or marry a gorgeous Veretian prince for the peace between the two kingdoms. 

Every year since he was eight, they have been receiving the portraits of a person who was once an adorable blonde kid, and who is now a pretty young man. _My husband_ , Damianos muses as he cocks his head to the side to remind himself how lucky he is that he was getting this man to share his bed for most of his nights. All nights if he’s down for threesomes with Jokaste.

***

The first word that comes to Laurent’s mind is barbaric. It’s not even the country; the barely there clothes or loud laughter, not even the way people treat each other tenderly in front of the whole world to see. The reason the word comes up in the first place is because he’s staring at his uncle. He always had this theory that wealth and power feed off on people like parasites until there is nothing left of humanity in them and in the recent days he had his theory verified by his own bastard kin.

His uncle turns the pages in front of him lazily as if he is has anything out than schemes in his fucked up head. He doesn’t have the authority to decide on important matters but apparently the future of Laurent wasn’t important enough for his simple minded father.

There is a knock on the door, obviously a half hearted attempt at decency because it opens before neither of them can say anything. A woman strays into the bare room –by Veretian standards- as if she owns it. Laurent barely suppresses a sigh at the sight of her and turns his gaze to the windows. The plants adorning the windows are not common in Vere, they are not familiar but somehow they give him sense of peace and also something to look at. Laurent knows who the intruder is, knows all about the rumours that he’s fucking Kastor as well as Damianos. Her platinum hair trials behind her in perfect waves, bringing a heavy vanilla scent with her, marring a scent forever for him. He’ll have to ban vanilla scented anything as soon as he becomes the king, because he’ll never be able to smell vanilla and not want to throw up again.

She bends the knee before his uncle, respectful and insurgent at the same time, giving him a blinding smile that makes him snort silently but she somehow hears it and throws him a glance under her long, thick eyelashes. He doesn’t take his eyes away, daring her to do anything else. Today is not the day he’ll take shit. More than that’s already been assigned.

She greets him quickly before turning back to his uncle. “The King and Damianos will arrive now. The King has insisted upon seeing to your rooms himself.” Laurent wonders if she thinks he’d be irritated or jealous that she uses his first name. In truth he’s just faintly amused to see the master evil mind in Akileos is this woman who knows no subtlety.

His uncle manages to turn his mouth into a smile but it looks to him as flobberworms are crawling out of his mouth. He alters the image a bit and now they’re going back in. Just where they belong.

“And Kastor?” he asks innocently, mouth a shape of a insincere smile. Jokaste tilts her head and gives him an identical sneer. “On the training grounds, I assume.”

“Does bastards not allowed in the official halls?”

jokaste laughs amusedly, “Oh, they are. I am a bastard,” she says airily, daring him to say anything about it with her striking eyes.

The king and the prince really come in a few moments before his uncle gets an aneurism trying to keep his smile going. With the king, he pretends to be a level headed, smart man who doesn’t smile much, a man his father trusts enough to send his son with. The king doesn’t seem to be caring much for him, instead of focusing on Laurent, pestering him with endless questions about his kingdom before he even introduces him to Damianos. He’d think he was going for state secrets, if he wasn’t asking about the usual sex life in Vere. Damianos looks amused but there isn’t any hate or despise in his eyes as he looks at his father, as if he’s not bothered that he has to be married to him until one of them dies. He gives Jokaste a smile before she leaves the room silently he probably thinks as discrete.

He knew of course. He knew Damianos is gorgeous. He knew he was about a head taller than him because he listened enough of Auguste complaining jokingly that he’s shorter than his brother in law. He knew from the paintings that this man would appeal to his eyes.

He didn’t take into account the way his body was going to respond to his presence, to his scent, to his boyish smile.

***

Laurent places himself on the leather sofa where he can keep an eye on the door and the bed, minimizing the chances he’ll be off guard if danger comes. He cringes when it makes a farting sound when he sits down on it. He stays still except for his eyes, taking in the room so he can place everything that can be used as a weapon against him and everything he can use as well.

There is a knock on the door and Laurent expects him to barge in like his mistress did but instead he waits more than twenty seconds before he must decide he isn’t in the room. He startles when he sees him on the sofa but a tentative smile forms on his face nevertheless. It almost twists his insides to see it is actually reflected back in his eyes. Laurent expects him to come sit next to him, ignoring every sign that he doesn’t want to be near him but he surprises him again in two minutes. He goes to stand by the bed, taking off his “clothes” one by one, putting them carelessly on the chair. It doesn’t take long before he only has underwear on him. Laurent would think he was being teased if they were back in his country but he’s where women usually prefer not to cover their breasts and where it isn’t so scandalous for men to walk naked around their houses.

Laurent forces himself to think about how ridiculous this country is, how hot, how nauseating or he’ll have to think about the way this giant man’s skin covered in sleek sweat, punctuating the way his muscles straining. He hopes he won’t want to sleep with him until they’re wedded. And preferably not even then because there is no chance he’ll get out of their sex unbroken with the amount of preparation this man will provide.

The thought breaks something in him, that he’ll have to endure this, that he’ll never get loving hands on him. And he must look terrified because Damianos starts walking towards him with a worried look on his face.

One fucking offending face.

“Take one more step in my direction and I will kill you.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think it through. He is not interested in being best friends with this man but it wasn’t actually in his plans to threaten him with murder the first time they are alone.

Damianos stops, looking confused and a bit hurt, as if he actually expected them to get along. He looks as if he’s contemplating what to do for a few seconds and then he does the smart thing and takes a step back with his enormous hands up in the air.

Laurent wonders how they would feel like sliding up his body, if he actually cared for him even for a night.

“That’s how it works with you then?” Damianos asks calmly. Laurent huffs at him, embarrassed of his own thoughts and turns away without bothering to answer him. He knows he is acting like a four year old brat but he can’t help himself. He is being sold to the enemy kingdom, being forced to share a bed with a man who’ll only want to fuck him once in a while for a change in bodies. He’s seen Jokaste, he’s seen their similarities. Maybe he’ll even pretend they’re twins. He curses himself for not changing into bed clothes before Damianos came into the room. He definitely didn’t think about how he’d take off his goddamn clothes. For once in his life he wishes he had some simple Akileon clothes on, so the next moments would be less humiliating, even though he knows Akileons think nothing of nudity.

He already feels blood rush to the surface of his skin. He’s sure he’ll be crimson in seconds but he refuses to let that knowledge change the snotty expression on his face. He hasn’t been less clothed than he is now in front of anyone except for his servants in years and the first person who’ll see him without three layers on in his adult years is this man.

“You want a hand?”

He doesn’t even bother with an answer, he’d die before he let this man put his hands on him for something so domestic. He manages to untangle the knot at the top without tearing a muscle but that’s the extent of his success. He stifles his angry sighs, trying to maintain a sense of dignity. When he can’t get it right for the eleventh time, he gives up and walks toward the bed with a haughty face, not looking at the way Damianos is sprawled on top of the sheets, strong legs open as if he’s inviting Laurent to climb on top of him. He looks much more comfortable than Laurent is.

It might be boiling hot inside and he might be wearing clothes for much colder weathers but he still gets under the covers and gets away from him as much as possible before he falls off.

“You look tight.” The words are easy to misunderstand and they make something change places in him but he doesn’t let his body react.

“I’m fine, go to sleep,” he says curtly.

It takes about ten second for Damianos to talk again. “You sure you don’t want me to take care of it? I don’t want to wake up to see you dead because you couldn’t breathe the whole night.” Laurent wonders if he can ever take the hint.

“No.”

“They’ll probably blame me and take my head.”

It almost makes him laugh but stops it happening by biting his lips. It takes him a moment to resign. “Fine then,” he amends. It takes him less than a minute and it’s more professional than he expected. He hates it.

***

Damen thinks of himself as an straightforward and honest man. He might be better with his sword than his words, unlike Laurent who had a tongue like a whip. Nikandros shakes his head at him, patting him on the shoulder for the third time so he can inside his own room.

“Just pretend you know what you’re doing,” Damianos mutters to himself. Nikandros raises his eyebrows at his nervousness. “He’s just another man, Damianos, don’t strain anything.”

“I have to get things straight between us,” he mumbles, not accepting that the way Laurent treated him actually hurt his feelings.

“Damianos, remember, he’s just one man, no matter how fair he is or how much his hair shines under the sun.”

He snorts.

 

“I think we should talk about our future,” Damianos blurts out the next time he sees Laurent alone in their room. He doesn’t know what possessed him to say this in such tactless fashion but maybe the way he was being ignored the last three days had something to do with it.

Laurent’s long fingers freeze as they were flipping the page and he turns his cool gaze at him slowly, unreadable expression on his face.

“Your mouth operates faster than your brain,” he drawls, one leg under his thigh. Damen decidedly doesn’t stare at his muscles shifting as he rearranges himself.

“I’ve actually prepared for this talk,” Damianos says sheepishly.

That actually makes Laurent’s lips tremble slightly as he tries to repress the smile. Encouraged by this show of slight warmth, he gives Laurent a lopsided grin.

But it actually has the opposite effect he was aiming for. Laurent’s face shuts down before his eyes and he resumes his reading. “I believe it’s quite clear. We’re going to sign the papers, we’ll pretend to fuck each other and after the news wear off, you can go stick your cock in anything you want.”

The brash, stern words out of his pretty mouth make him flinch and he feels blood rushing to his brain.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t want a husband, I don’t want someone to fuck, I definitely don’t want anyone to talk to right now so I’d appreciate if you just backed off,” he says, his eyes back to his book but his eyes doesn’t roam over the page like they did yesterday.

“I didn’t ask what you didn’t want Laurent, I asked you what you wanted.”

“I already told you what I wanted. I have no interest in being one of your conquests,” he says, piercing icy eyes back on him.

“I didn’t think you’d be like this,” Damianos huffs out an exasperated laugh. He begins to walk away but Laurent’s annoyed voice stops him.

“Oh my god, you thought what? That I’d fall in love with you and I’d fall into your bed and you’d get to fuck me into the mattress a few times before you got bored? We are only doing this for the future ıf our kingdoms and I wouldn’t even speak to you for one second if Auguste didn’t beg me.”

“That’s not how it would be, I have no interest in fucking you and tossing you away,” Damianos says horrified, mouth twisting around the words. “That’s not who I am.”

“How funny. You think I care.”

“Well, you obviously do because that’s the longest you’ve talked to me.” Then he hesitates before asking, “Is there someone back in Vere?”

That actually surprises Laurent but the flicker of emotion is long gone before he can intercept it.

“Don’t ask any questions and you’ll get no lies.”

Damen crosses his arms and glares at him, “I think I should know though.”

Laurent regards him calmly, “Would you do the same?”

He shrugs, “Of course. I’m not asking you to sleep with me, or not to sleep anyone. But I think I should be aware of it.”

Laurent hums and tilts his head to left, leaving his long ivory neck exposed to his gaze. “You don’t have to worry about my bedroom activities. But if you must know you’ll never get me as long as you’re with anyone else. And probably not even then.”

***

“How did it go?”

“It could be worse,” Damianos says lightly, almost cheerfylly, “I expected it to go worse.”

***

Damen can’t really say their relationship improve but they form kind of an easy companionship after their wedding ceremony. Three days they had to spend in their bedroom convinced Laurent that Damen wasn’t going to force him to do anything. They didn’t talk about weather but they talked about economy, agriculture and war techniques. In all honesty, Damen always thought these days would be spent losing their minds having sex but at least Laurent hasn’t tried to kill him once yet.

He’d probably succeed and make it look like a suicide.

“What are you reading?” Damen asks after staring at the ceiling for a long time and still not being able to sleep. His voice jerks his husband out of his zone and he bits his lips to refrain from smiling at the cute way he blinks.

“A novel actually,” Laurent confesses quietly.

Damen giggles, ignoring the death glare Laurent send his way. “Those cheap ones bed slaves write?”

Laurent looks like he’s about to deny but then he laughs quietly too. “They’re captivating.”

“You need something to ease your mind off. All those ideas and observations in your head.”

Laurent hums, looking at him with unsure eyes. “I think this might be written by one of your slaves. The prince sound very much like you.”

Damen raises his eyebrows, “I never noticed any of them writing anything. Is it good?”

Laurent hesitates, then shrugs. “Fine. But you wouldn’t want to read it. I think you’d go on a self hating week.” He rubs his eyes and sets the book aside. He looks tired and Damen is tired. And there is no reason why they can’t share body heat in the middle of winter.

“Come here, I’m cold.”

That gets a laugh, “You’re hotter than a fireplace.”

“Then come here and I’ll warm you up.”

Laurent smiles despite himself and gets under the covers. He stops wriggling when there’s less place than there’s ever been between them and turns to face Damen. “Tell me something.”

“What?”

“A story. About your childhood, preferably something that doesn’t include your brother.”

Damen rolls his eyes. “I see you’ve talked to Nikandros.”

“I haven’t. But whatever he’s saying I probably agree.”

“You two are sceptics,” Damen insists, his face fallen.

“I am but you friend isn’t. Maybe you should listen to him,” Laurent murmurs looking him in the eye.

“Your eyes scare me sometimes,” Damen says, voice velvety.

The soft look leaves Laurent’s face. “Easy solution. Don’t look at me.”

“But I’d still look at you even it killed me.”

That gets another snort out of Laurent. “You just have a type.”

“Maybe I just like you a lot.”

Laurent doesn’t say anything for a while then sighs. “Shut up and tell me a fairy tale.”

Damen does exactly that.

***

It’s not easy for Dame to watch his mistress marry his brother. It’s not easy for Laurent to watch Damen either. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t like that seeing Damen beat himself up because it makes him insanely jealous, something he’s never felt before. They sit next to each other, not talking, both forcing some food they don’t taste into their stomachs for almost two weeks. Damen and him don’t talk about this. They don’t talk about anything that might strike a nerve unless they are both bone tired and sleepy in their bed, comfortably warm and fuzzy. That’s when they have their most honest conversations.

Laurent sometimes wonders if he takes slaves to his bed when he isn’t looking during this time but he’s sharp and he knows where to listen. He knew about Jokaste and Kastor before Damen or his dim father, he’d know it now if Damen slept with another people.

That night, their walk to bedroom is silent, thoughtful. Damen is unusually quite and it unnerves Laurent like nothing does. Because even during those days in which Laurent is most cranky and hurtful, Damen keep his good mood, talks smoothly until tension leaves him.

He risks placing a hand on this upper arm. He imagines how he’d react if their roles were reversed and internally cringes but Damen just gives him a bitter smile. They still don’t say anything to each other as they dress but Laurent takes in the tight muscles of his back, the way is mouth is stretched as if he’s tasting rotten fish and talks before he can think it through, “You know, I have way better skin than Jokaste.”

Damen looks surprised for a second, as if he forgot Laurent was in the room but then he chuckles, eyes wrinkling around the corners. “That you do.”

“And a better ass,” Laurent excitedly continues, encouraged by the change in Damen’s expression.

“I’d have to see your ass first to say that,” he replies cheekily and Laurent can’t help the huge grin blooming.

“Be a good boy and I might even let you touch it.”

“What would I have to do to taste it?” Damen says, flopping on the mattress, arms stretched over his head.

Laurent pretends to think about it. “Sign over your country. Is it too much for you?”

“For that ass? Not at all.”

***

“I feel stupid for falling for her lies,” Damen grumbles to Laurent as she flaunts her stomach in the court. He almost had a heart attack thinking the child might be his before Laurent sat him down and showed him it was impossible unless he fucked Jokaste behind his back after he came to Akileos.

Laurent hums, “She is an alright liar. Could learn a few things from me though.”

“She’d probably take over the country if we’d married or if she’d had my child.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’d do it?”

“No,” says Damen honestly, “If you wanted you could and I’d never know, so no need to worry.”

“That’s not trust,” Laurent thinks, “and I did nothing to deserve his trust anyway.”

***

Laurent is far warmer than he was when he first came. He smiles when Damen comes into the room and chuckles at his jokes and blushes prettily whenever Damen starts undressing, so he takes up to changing as many times possible when they’re together. He loves the way Laurent can’t take his eyes away, trying to hide behind his glasses or book and failing every single time.

So it isn’t a shock to hear Laurent wants to have sex with him but his words does shock him.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Damen freezes, narrowing his eyes to make sure he’s not imagining things. “Did I hear you right?”

“Yes,” Laurent snaps, face flaming red with shame. He starts to turn around, probably planning to run away and live in the mountains as a caveman but Damen catches him by his wrist, tugging him close.

“Leaving before hearing my answer? Not very much like you,”” Damen says with a small smile, trying to reassure him. Then he whispers in Laurent’s ear, making him gasp as his body flares with heat. “I don’t want to _fuck_ you Laurent. I want to lose myself in you, I want to devour you. I want to map every inch of you with my hands and mouth. Is that okay with you?”

He nods, startled like a deer and Damen stares at his spit slick lips hungrily openly for the first time, dragging Laurent down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. He twines his fingers in Laurent’s silky hair, and sighs as his taste floods his senses.

This, Damen thinks, this is why I was born.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback, love you :)


End file.
